Last Call
by Fellowshipper
Summary: Charlie doesn't need another savior, especially not in the guise of a reformed older brother. Oneshot.


**Title:** Last Call  
**Continuity:** Pre-flight, after Charlie visited Liam in Sydney  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own nuttin'. Seriously.

Charlie ordered another shot. He wasn't quite sure how many he'd had already, but as he tossed another one back and winced when it burned its way down his throat, he began to wonder if maybe he hadn't had too many already.

The television in the corner above the bar had been playing a match – it was Sydney at Brisbane, if he remembered correctly – most of the night, and as such the entire building had been full of near-riotous fans. When Sydney lost, though, the dejected crowd quickly abandoned ship, leaving Charlie alone with a handful of patrons that all seemed to be as desperate to drown themselves as he felt.

Now the TV showed the nightly news, and Charlie caught himself watching with half-hearted interest as a reporter with the proper textbook accent described the carnage of a car wreck earlier in the day. The bartender shook his head and changed the set to an all-sports channel.

"No use listening to that," he murmured with a nod in Charlie's direction. Charlie shrugged and motioned for another drink, which was set before him without hesitation. The bartender was used to the rhythm by now.

"You got something on your mind, mate?"

Charlie looked up, blinking the sleep or drink-induced bleariness from his eyes until his vision focused on the barman. He was a nice-enough looking guy, heavyset with two gray tufts of hair on either side of his head and unassuming brown eyes set in his ruddy face. "Huh?"

"You've been in here since three o'clock."

"So?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "It's almost eleven. PM," he added as an afterthought.

Charlie glared at him, lowering his head back over his drink. "Sod off. I'm paying, aren't I? What do you care?"

"Suit yourself, it's your liver," the barman shot back with a shrug, turning around to clean the handles on the tap. Charlie looked up again, watching him through long strands of greasy hair, then sighed.

"You got a brother?"

"Eh?" The man turned back around, leaning against the far counter with his hands braced on the edge behind him. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, three, actually. My oldest one died a few years back, God rest his soul. One's a mechanic downtown. The other moved to Perth. Last I heard he teaches biology. We don't keep in touch, really."

"Obviously."

The bartender chuckled and leaned forward, elbows on the bar counter. "What about you? That why you're here?"

Charlie nodded, fingers curling a bit tighter around the glass.

"He older or younger?"

"Older. 'Bout four years."

"Yeah, that's about the difference between me an' Mike – that's the mechanic. I'm the older one."

Charlie didn't look up when the bartender moved to greet another customer, didn't look up when that customer sat next to him, didn't look up when he heard a familiar beat drummed by hands across the wooden surface of the counter.

"Go 'way." His head tilted up slowly until he saw eyes much like his own in their intensity staring back at him, now behind the glasses Liam always swore he'd never wear. They were like trophies on display now, safely ensconced in a glass case, and Charlie's shoulders tensed for some reason unbeknownst to him. "I've nothing to say to you. Go."

"Charlie," Liam started, voice low as he leaned in toward his brother, "come on. How many have you had?"

"Fuck you."

"I was thinking something more along the lines of a number," he joked with a soft laugh. Charlie purposely leaned to the opposite side on the stool. "I've been in every pub within walking distance of the house. You're not an easy bastard to find, y'know."

"Maybe that's 'cause I don't wanna be found. Ever think of that?"

"I did. And then I ignored it, because it's bullshit and we both know it." He propped his elbows on the bar, staring at his reflection in the polished wood. "Karen's been promoted at work. We could put a lot up to get you in a program. We've a spare room in the house you could stay in. We'd have to clean it out first, since it's mostly just got holiday decorations in it now, but it wouldn't take long to – "

Charlie let out a short, bitter laugh. "Fuckin' brilliant."

"What?"

He turned on the stool, rubbing a hand across his face as if in disbelief. "You…you are the last fucking person on the planet to lecture me about this." He made an effort to get to his feet and instead fell back onto the stool, braced by Liam's arm suddenly against his back, which he shrugged off angrily. "Stop it! Stop—stop bloody coddling me! I'm not a baby!"

"You were gonna fall."

Charlie motioned for another drink.

"Charlie, please. Just…come home with me. I'm worried about you."

"So worried that the last time I heard from you was two years ago."

"You were all over the place, man, I couldn't get hold of you, you know that."

"You had your wedding without me. Our goddamned drummer was your best man, for Christ's sake! Over me!"

"I just told you I couldn't – no. No, Charlie, I'm not going to let you drag me into another of your stupid arguments so you can be some whinging brat and I end up being the bad guy as usual. We're not arguing about this."

"Coulda fooled me."

Liam rolled his eyes in frustration and watched the light from the television dance in splintered fragments along the countertop. "You're being an ass, Charlie."

"Then just fucking leave already and you won't have to deal with it. You can go home to your nice little fucking family in your nice little fucking house and pretend I don't even fucking exist, how's that? Tomorrow I'll be gone and you'll never hear from me again to disturb your precious fucking little fairytale life."

Liam sighed quietly. "I never realized before how much you swear when you're drunk."

"Fuck you. Again."

"See?"

Charlie pushed a hand through his hair, slightly repulsed at the slick feeling coating his fingers. "Please, Lee, just…just go. Please."

"Not without you."

"You aren't my savior!" Charlie looked up with wide, frantic eyes. "I had one and I blew that all to hell, I don't need another! Why won't you just accept that?"

"Because you're my brother, and I can't. Not when you're still…" He trailed off as the words stuck in his throat, rendering him abruptly silent. The stillness was not lost, however, and Charlie snorted, shaking his head.

"Incredible. You're something else, mate, seriously."

Liam laid a tentative hand across Charlie's forearm, tilting his head a bit to the side. "Let me help you, Charlie. No, wait, just at least listen to what I have to say before you get all pissed off again, yeah? Look, I know how you feel, I really do. You know that. You know if anyone has any idea what you're going through, I do."

"You should," Charlie started again, quietly, voice cracking embarrassingly. He downed the rest of the drink, looking up with glassy eyes. "You should, because you did this. You fucking did this to me."

Taken aback, Liam closed his mouth quickly.

Gaining steam, Charlie choked back a sob and turned hateful, fiery eyes toward his brother. "You did this to me, Liam, don't you dare sit there and patronize me, tell-telling me, 'Oh, I know how it feels, I can help you,' all that shit, because you have no right – no fucking right at all – to do it."

"I know. Charlie, I know, I know I'm the reason for all this. Do you think I've never begged for the chance to take it all back?"

"Yeah, well, you can't."

"I know that, too. The best I can do is to try to make things right." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Don't take that flight tomorrow. Stay here and just…just let me help you, Charlie, please."

"I'll ring you up when I get to LA."

With the rest of the world caving in around him, Liam didn't care about the sports highlights on the television or the dancing lights on the tabletop anymore. He got to his feet, defeated, and leaned over Charlie's slouched form, bracing himself with a hand on his brother's shoulder as he placed a lingering kiss on Charlie's head.

"Take care of yourself, baby brother. I love you."

Motionless as a stone he sat until Liam left, and only then did the tears finally release themselves. Fire burned in his chest as he tried to calm himself, ashamed as he hid his face behind his hand until he could at least speak coherently again. When he could, he ordered another shot.


End file.
